Dream 1
Something was off. By all means, it was a lovely day, and he was in a lovely position. A newspaper was spread out in front of him, and a cup of coffee was held fast in his hands, and he was looking out onto a scenic suburb from his porch, however the sky was just a little too blue, the grass a little to green, the air a little too quiet.
Suspiciously, he scanned the neighborhood for any other inconsistencies, and felt a wave of disdain overcome him. These stupid little people in their stupid little homes thinking their petty little--
His thoughts were interrupted with the blast of helicopter blades that he had not heard before and the loud thump of a soldier landing heavily on the glass table in front of him. His coffee spilled all over him, scalding him, staining him. He flew to his feet immediately, and the soldier with the obscured face reached out and dragged two fingers down his chest before putting them to his mouth.
"Cream and sugar?" The soldier said, hopping off the table. "My, but you've gone soft."
"How I take my coffee has no bearing on my mental status. Why have you come?"
"To help you see the light." The soldier's lips twitched upwards as he unstrapped a gun from off his back and shoved it unceremoniously into the other man's arms. "Idle hands are the devil's playthings."
He accepted the gun from the soldier reluctantly. "My hands are far from idle," he said coldly, "and I have none to shoot. Powerful men have changed the world through words, not through these things. Gentlemen, philosophers, scholars. It is they we remember, not you, not for all the assemblies in the world." For all his disdain, he found the gun fitting in his hands as comfortably as a child would fit into his mother's arms.
Suddenly, they were in a jungle, the sun now unbearably hot. Around them, the trees whispered. Above them, the world hummed.
The soldier leaned forward so that their noses touched, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "Whatever you say. It's devour or be devoured. You are the free, or you are the oppressed. You will fight, or you will hide."
The soldier took two steps back and toppled back into a hole lined with spikes. When he inched forward to see it, all he saw was a gruesome portrait that didn't bother him in the slightest. The soldier in front of him had once been a man. Now, he was just meat. Maggots already seeped out of the cracks in the ground and inched towards his open mouth.
"Every man is free in his own mind," he said to the corpse, and tossed the gun in after it. "You cannot take that away."
Suspiciously, he scanned the neighborhood for any other inconsistencies, and felt a wave of disdain overcome him. These stupid little people in their stupid little homes thinking their petty little--
His thoughts were interrupted with the blast of helicopter blades that he had not heard before and the loud thump of a soldier landing heavily on the glass table in front of him. His coffee spilled all over him, scalding him, staining him. He flew to his feet immediately, and the soldier with the obscured face reached out and dragged two fingers down his chest before putting them to his mouth.
"Cream and sugar?" The soldier said, hopping off the table. "My, but you've gone soft."
"How I take my coffee has no bearing on my mental status. Why have you come?"
"To help you see the light." The soldier's lips twitched upwards as he unstrapped a gun from off his back and shoved it unceremoniously into the other man's arms. "Idle hands are the devil's playthings."
He accepted the gun from the soldier reluctantly. "My hands are far from idle," he said coldly, "and I have none to shoot. Powerful men have changed the world through words, not through these things. Gentlemen, philosophers, scholars. It is they we remember, not you, not for all the assemblies in the world." For all his disdain, he found the gun fitting in his hands as comfortably as a child would fit into his mother's arms.
Suddenly, they were in a jungle, the sun now unbearably hot. Around them, the trees whispered. Above them, the world hummed.
The soldier leaned forward so that their noses touched, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "Whatever you say. It's devour or be devoured. You are the free, or you are the oppressed. You will fight, or you will hide."
The soldier took two steps back and toppled back into a hole lined with spikes. When he inched forward to see it, all he saw was a gruesome portrait that didn't bother him in the slightest. The soldier in front of him had once been a man. Now, he was just meat. Maggots already seeped out of the cracks in the ground and inched towards his open mouth.
"Every man is free in his own mind," he said to the corpse, and tossed the gun in after it. "You cannot take that away."